On the Run
by hippiechick2112
Summary: A loyal German officer is on the run from his government and happens to head to Stalag 13 for help. Will he take the offer or try to remain loyal with his mother country? Will he reveal the Stalag 13 operation?
1. Running Away Once More

**On the Run**

**Note and Disclaimer:**** I'll be saying this every time. I don't own the characters to ****Hogan's Heroes****. I would like to thank those who have created this series. However, the characters I have created in this series (e.g. Colonel Michalovich) belong to me, so if you want to use them in any story you wish to write, please email me with permission first. Their views, however disgusting to many, are NOT my own and I do not mean offense to anyone. Thank you!**

_Achtung! A traitor is on the loose: Captain George von Rumey, Luftwaffe. Any information is to be handed over to Gestapo Headquarters, Düsseldorf or Hammelburg, on the order of General Frederick Hozellenan and Colonel Victoria Hozellenan of the Gestapo. Any withdrawn of information will result in dire consequences. Spread the word to the civilians in each city with a description of the man. Kill anyone who is either holding back his whereabouts or is hiding him._

I crumbled the message I found that the Gestapo sent to each city's headquarters and civilian posts as I walked away from the town. I knew that the word was going to pass through Germany quickly and I had no time to waste. Already, the damned Allied Underground had disguised me – I easily found an agent who was willing to help me – and they were sending me to the next station in Hammelburg, where I could be processed, yet again, and sent away from Germany.

I could pass for one of my own. However, it was not wise to do so. I had to keep walking on to that hated destination, towards Stalag 13, where I was to be kept for a while. I had to rendezvous in the woods beforehand, but no matter.

I walked through the lonely town of Hammelburg on an early spring night, searching for my destination in the woods outside of town. It was late – the early hours of the morning, for sure – and the civilians were sleeping, Gestapo patrols skipping their duties that night, it seemed. I seemed to be in luck, but, then again, I never considered myself to have any.

The meeting spot was only ahead of me and no one was still in sight, I noted, as I walked. I then crept into the woods, at the edge of town, slowly, dodging into the trees and walking on into the darkness. After all, I had to keep thinking and to watch myself. However, my story from a loyal German soldier to a runaway German man bothers me. It occupied my thoughts.

Oh, damn, so what? I was on the run once more. I was packing up one life and heading onto the next, like I had been doing for most of my life. For God's sake, I _had_ a wife who loved and supported me in whatever I did and wherever I had gone. I have a teen-aged son in the Hitler Youth program, raised by my mother (and later, stepfather) still.

Now…now, I have my _own_ mother – one of the most powerful women of the Third Reich, if not, the only – ordering everyone to look out for me. I have my _own_ stepfather leading the search parties, if he wasn't destroying the Underground missions. God, _they_ ordered their troops to _kill_ my wife in order to find out where I was (she only had the time to hide me in our rooms behind my study's bookcase). _They_ manipulated my son in order to turn him against me so now, he is out hunting me.

Dammit! All I have is the people who I considered to be the enemy at one point and the fiancé of my stepsister, wherever the hell she is. She can't help me anytime soon.

It disgusts me to no end. Hogan – Robert Hogan, who "rescued" my stepsister from an assignment that Mother had given to me and my brothers Kurt and Warner – is now going to help me get out of Germany because he works with the Underground and England, through an operation in a P.O.W. camp.

Oh, I hate the man. I hate my stepsister, Nikola, too. She caused my family so much grief, just as I had. But I _have_ a reason, she did not! All she did was be born and be born to that Jewish Socialist, that fat bastard. We reminded her daily about it. We starved her, hit her and even tried to kill her.

It was to no avail. She's a spy now, last I heard from Mother, and getting herself into more trouble, just like always. Nothing has changed with her.

After all, Nikola's father had started my life of going back and forth from one stage of life to the next. _My_ father, _the_ Baron von Rumey, had left my mother widowed when I was nearly three years old (my younger brothers – twins – were infants). My mother was also twenty years old and too young and vulnerable. She fell in love too soon with the wrong person, that Russian Jew, Peter Michalovich. Years later they had married and had Nikola, but in America.

One night, Mother had us boys packing and soon enough, we were on a boat to America. We landed and settled in a home that _my_ father had insured to my mother just in case something had happened to _her_. _She_ foolishly had taken advantage of it and it caused her anguish. I know it.

I hated this Russian who had taken Mother. He made her a different person, especially after Nikola was born. She wanted _nothing_ to do with my stepsister and let that Russian Jew take care of her with his Socialist friends.

Oh, those _bastards_…they cause Mother to drink more. She went to parties often at night while the nurse gave Nikola to that Russian Jew. But finally, after a short time and in seeing the truth about the Russian Jew, Mother _finally _divorced him and had us moved out of that dreaded house. Nikola came with us, of course, and we made her life miserable. She deserved it well, as she caused too much trouble.

Nikola caused us to move back to Germany, too. We had run out of money because of her and her stupid schooling dreams. We had run out of money because of her stupid father too, because he wanted money from the reopened case (the divorce, of course) in the courts. So, Mother wanted her eliminated before anything else happened and had her sons – us – do the job.

Oh, we tried. We caught her walking to the house from school, in the snow, and tried beating her to death in an alleyway, but that Hogan stopped us, him and his older brother. We may have failed, but it left her to her own devises. We were to go home to Germany and run once more.


	2. Pride and Humiliation

Ah, but Germany was not the home we hoped for. Ruined, deep in depression and deprived of national pride, we Germans waited for the time in which we could rise up again and show the world how powerful we really were. With Adolf Hitler, we found it.

By then, I had married well (unlike my brothers, who would always like to be bachelors and chase women) and had a son, Jozef, who had been born the year before we left America (my Lilli had missed Germany, as well, and wanted to come back with us). I found delight when everything changed for the better. Even the Jews, who were Germany's enemy for a long time, were chased out or prosecuted.

Lilli, my beautiful wife until the end…oh, my _Lilli_…shared my views, it seemed. We settled in Cologne, near Mother and Frederick (my stepfather, naturally), who lived in Düsseldorf, and participated in every event we could to support Germany and Hitler, our Führer. We were patriots of Germany. We loved our country.

My Lilli did not have to pay for my crimes, which have come in this justified war. All I wanted to do was get some meager revenge on my dumb camp Kommandant, Colonel Bröckenheimer. He was being as ass. After all, I was only his _aide_ and he had no right to insult me.

Well, as his aide at Stalag 17, I accompanied him everywhere and did menial tasks for him. I took command of the camp of prisoners when he wanted to travel or go on vacation. And as a reward for serving him and Germany so well, Bröckenheimer had decided to insult me in front of my mother and some of the top Gestapo officers, including that insufferable Major Wolfgang Hochstetter.

It was at the end of roll call, when the prisoners were ordered back into their barracks and we Germans were alone at last. "Ah, here comes so _fine_ of an officer to the Third Reich: Captain George von Rumey. Follows his orders like a puppy, yet, like an ass, persists in his requests." Bröckenheimer had laughed, continuing. "He even fraternizes with the prisoners."

I looked to Mother quickly, but before I said anything, she drew her wrath upon me. "How _dare_ you do such a thing, Captain, to your commanding officer?" Mother had barked. "A fine German officer would _never_, under _any_ circumstances, talk with the prisoners. The Allied Forces are our _sworn_ enemies!"

I saluted Mother. We were always formal with each other and _never _took to familiar routines, as others had. "Oh, no, Colonel, I would _never_ do such a thing. The scum are never touched unless needed to." I reassured her with ease, just as I had always done. "I follow every order _to the letter_."

"Let us hope so, for your sake, von Rumey," Hochstetter answered, a threatening tone in so few words. Usually, he makes threats about heads rolling when nothing goes his way or someone has done something. Oh, I _hate_ that man!

"Yes, let's," Mother finally added, her lips cold and lean. That thin line of a mouth would frighten _anyone_, myself included.

I was relieved that I didn't receive a severe punishment for this small lie. I do follow my orders to the letter, but I do talk with the prisoners on occasion. That's because they always complain at me. I can't help it but to shake my head sometimes.

Anyhow, the matter seemed dropped until later that evening. It was a week before this night – March 9, 1943 was the date – that my revenge was enacted. And it all started because of my nightly duties, I will admit. One of them was always checking the prisoners. I personally was going to inspect the barracks that night and brought my usual men with me, Corporals Nurembäng and Pulkemper.

They were my men completely, or so I thought. However, they had to put their loyalties aside. They were not defending me that night.

With about twenty barracks, I'd figured to start early and get it done by the time the prisoners were ordered to turn their lights out. My plan went accordingly, but something was conspiring. I knew it as I inspected the prisoners, their belongings and the barracks' furniture. I felt the nervousness of the men when I examined their barracks. Each man was sweating, fiddling with some clothing or even looking at the commanding officer of the prisoners, who followed me everywhere. Major Daniel Armstrong was the man's name. That pain in the ass made sure that I paid no attention to the men but the barracks, but I knew the game. I found it afoot when I reached the last barracks, number 14, where Major Armstrong was quartered with sixteen other prisoners.

Without knocking at any of the barracks, I had my corporals open the door and search the premises and its prisoners, as I had ordered done. However, when we came upon the men in number 14, we saw them conspiring. They were all around the barracks' main table and all looking down on something together. They didn't notice us entering.

Finally, one of them noticed us behind them and motioned to everybody else. Scared that they were suddenly found out, the men covered what they were looking at and stood at attention. One man, Lieutenant Cortman, took their paper and hid it in his uniform. I saw him and ordered him searched.

"I must protest, Captain…" Armstrong began as he came to me without asking.

"I don't want to hear it, Major," I replied. "I want this Lieutenant Cortman searched."

Nurembäng and Pulkemper knew what to do in an instant without my orders. My corporals searched the man and found what I knew I saw. The offending paper was then brought to me when the investigation was over, a mere minute later. Saluting, the Corporals stood behind me, their job done. I nodded my acknowledgement at a job _well_ done and opened the folds in the paper, gasping as I saw words and diagrams.

"An escape plan has been foiled Major Armstrong," I announced, folding the paper back and putting it in my uniform pocket. "The offenders will be punished accordingly."

"It is the duty of every officer to escape, as you well know, Captain," Armstrong answered me smartly.

_Stupid Americans, _I thought. I nodded to my men to reply to this insolence, both standing to one side each. They would do their duty when I was finished with saying their sentence.

"Barracks 14 is now under restriction without any privileges," I said out loud. "All food is reduced to potatoes and water and all recreational activities, exercises included, are prohibited. I will inform the Kommandant of the plan that we have discovered. In the meantime, we will bring Major Armstrong to the cooler on solitary confinement and let him contemplate upon this matter."

My men were to take the Major to our cooler before he caught my attention once again. "Captain, what if I was to make a deal with you?"

"We don't make 'deals' here in Germany," I answered back rudely. Indeed, it was true. "You take the consequences of your actions and make do with what you have, Major Armstrong."

"The Kommandant bothers you, doesn't he?" Armstrong spat out as my men were out to herd him out the door. _His_ men, however, could not do anything. The Corporals were ordered _shoot to kill _if anything happened that would endanger us.

"Stop," I ordered quickly. I nodded to Nurembäng and Pulkemper again. "Let the man go for now. He might have more information about this escape. Let me talk with him."

The men obeyed me and let Armstrong go, closing the barracks' door behind them as I was left alone with the Allies prisoners. They knew the routine. If I had something to talk over with the prisoners, I did it alone. I didn't trust them enough to do so, and I think it was my mistake. They could have helped me later.

"All right," I began as all of the men relaxed and prepared for bed in the meantime, "what do you want, Major? What do you need to tell me?"

Armstrong invited me to sit at the table with him, but I declined. Shrugging his shoulders, the commanding officer began as he himself sat down.

"Well," Armstrong started, "I noticed that you had trouble with the Kommandant tonight. So, I'd thought we'd make a deal."

"It depends on what it is," I replied. "Like I have said, I will not make one."

"Oh, I think you will," Armstrong started, but then he stopped. Then: "I just need you to promise me that if I tell you this, then you'd never tell the Kommandant or any other Krauts – I mean, German – here." He said it with hesitation. "Our escape plan needs more to it than you have seen."

"What's in it for me?" I asked, copying an American phrase that I had heard often enough. I often stole their words and phrases.

"You have your revenge," Cortman said simply as he sat down next to his commanding officer. He had recovered enough from the search to be calm.

I thought upon it. Yes, I had hated that dog of a Kommandant Bröckenheimer was. Indeed, I wanted to hear of the plan, too. Then, I could decide if I will tell the Kommandant or not. Details aside, I could uncover a bigger plot.

"I promise I would not say a word," I said with some sincerity. I wanted to hear of this escape plan and report it immediately. But, I also wanted to make them have my trust before I got anything.

"Ok, then," Armstrong jumped with enthusiasm. It was as if he trusted me on the spot. "So, come closer please, Captain."

Obeying him and reluctantly sitting down at the table, I leaned closer to hear of this plan of theirs. "Our escape plan involves tunnels, like they usually do," Armstrong began. "We studied the guards' positions very well and know it. The thing is, we don't know if we'll be caught or not. Bröckenheimer is very cruel when prisoners are caught. He gives us over to the Gestapo to be interrogated and we're never the same again."

Armstrong grimaced. He had a point. He was a very young man – his early thirties, at least, I'd say – and already, his hair was _completely_ white. He had been with the Gestapo trice because of the Kommandant, either for back talking, bothersome activity or for escape. I never thought twice of it, though. I turned the other way.

Sympathy filled me, but for a few seconds. _I can't have that for my enemy!_ "So, what do you want me to do?" I snarled, angry that I had feelings for the prisoners. "I can't betray my country for –"

"No, no, I understand that," Armstrong interrupted. "If you get rid of the Kommandant through more _permanent_ ways, then it'd make our lives easier to cope with."

Tipping his hat to me, Armstrong stood up. "I wish you a good night, Captain. Think about it." And off he went to his quarters with the Lieutenant behind him (they share quarters), before I could say a word, before I could punish him for the escape plans!

_I'm going to report this no matter what_, was my initial thought as I left Barracks 14 immediately, stumbling over dirty piles of clothes and belongings.

As I did leave the scene, Bröckenheimer spotted me as he came up for his evening inspection, which was nightly. My corporals were with him.

"What did the prisoner say?" he demanded. "Captain von Rumey, you did mess it up, did you?" Sighing, my Kommandant continued to rant as my men snickered. "You're a disgrace to this Third Reich. You probably didn't get much out of him, anyway. These fine corporals could do a better job than you!"

Giving me the cold shoulder as I tried to explain the situation and report on the plans of the prisoners, Bröckenheimer left me, ordering that my men follow him to the guard tower. I had no orders and was left, for all that I did for him!

It angered me. It angered me more than Armstrong's comments and his loyalties. I wanted to _kill_ Bröckenheimer. It was not like me to do so, but I felt it. My whole being wanted to kill the scum that insulted me many times that evening.

And, oh, will I have my chance. I found it easy to kill Bröckenheimer, but I found it harder to escape after the prisoners did, disguising myself and running to the Underground.


	3. At the Meeting Point

I was at my meeting point finally. I was to meet Papa Bear about a mile away from Stalag 13.

An owl hooted in the distance. The trees waved at me, their cold branches pointing at me, giving the Gestapo the information that they needed. _There he is! Grab him, grab him! He's a traitor to the Third Reich! Get him!_

It made me nervous. _And why else? I watched my Lilli die in their hands, before I could even help her. I hate them! Damn them! Damn them all! I followed prisoners to the Underground, they led me back home, and I was followed. What for? Oh, damn them all!_

An old woman came into my view within a few seconds. She hobbled towards me and steadied herself on her cane, indicating that I help her, as I was the only person within her sights.

"I'm sorry, Mother," I said automatically without thinking, "but I cannot help you tonight."

"Oh, please, sonny…" she begged. She fell and could not get back up again.

Pity overcame me, a hard man who has never shown compassion for anyone past his wife and son. But, what an old woman would do out in the woods in Hammelburg in the middle of the night baffled me, but then I thought about my contact, Papa Bear, as I helped this…old woman get on her feet again and rest easily on a log, a broken tree that toppled in the woods possibly days before.

"Thank you, sonny," the old woman said. "It looks like a starry evening tonight. I'd thought the walk would help me."

That was the code. I almost slapped myself for stupidity, but didn't. _I couldn't recognize that this woman was my contact!_

"Yes," I replied, tying my tongue remembering the counter code that the Underground gave to me after I went to them for the second time, asking for help once more. "Maybe we can see the North Star."

The old woman sighed with relief, revealing a man's voice. I was shocked almost. _A man who dresses in woman's clothes? How dare he! That is against all nature!_

"Welcome, mate," the man said in a British accent. "The name's Newkirk. Just follow me and stick with the act. We'll get to jolly 'ld Stalag 13 before you know it."

"How will we get into the prison camp?" I asked with curiosity, forgetting that this Englishman is my enemy. "How will you help me get out of Germany?"

"One thing at a time," this Newkirk replied softly. In his old woman's voice, he added, "Just stick with me, sonny, and we'll get to Grammy's old house in a jiffy." Getting up on her (his) cane, this Newkirk started to act out hobbling, indicating that I follow her…him, I should say.

I had a choice. I knew where the fork in the road was. I hesitated in going with Newkirk, but I didn't know where else to go. I could have chosen to leave the man and let him go back to Stalag 13 without me. I could have said to go back and let me get out of Germany on my own, even though everyone knows who I am and what I look like.

_Or_…or, I could do as Lilli requested of me before she was killed and to save myself and my son and get out of Germany. I could accept Stalag 13's help and hopefully, get out alive. I could find Jozef and convince him, somehow, to accept the Allies as the winning side and escape to England. After all, he _did _have a good sense of fortune and how he was to choose sides.

I felt powerful for the first time in my life, like I had control over it for once. I felt as if this same control I gained throughout my whole life was taken away from me. I had to choose life or to be stubbornly alone.

For Lilli's sake…for Jozef's sake…I had to go with Newkirk.


	4. Underground

A forest clearing and lights from the prison camp greeted my eyes as Newkirk and I arrived just outside of Stalag 13. It baffled me further, especially as it was a P.O.W. camp and, might I add, one of the best, even though its kommandant, Klink, is an idiot.

I knew why, as I came towards it, the prisoners could not escape: to fool Klink with their operation and make him believe that he was a tough kommandant.

"How will we get in?" I asked quietly. The guards and dogs looked vicious and I was not going to be the one caught with them outside the fence.

"Follow me," Newkirk answered, skidding downhill towards the camp as the lights moved in a different direction and onto the other side of the camp.

_I have to trust him._ There was no other way. So, I followed the fool down the hill, avoiding the usual lights and such. I had to duck my head numerous times and I lost my footing just as many times, not knowing when the guards were going to catch me. I was not used to sliding.

Newkirk reached the bottom of the hill and ducked again (I copied his movement as soon as I saw it) because there was another light that came towards the tree stump he stopped at. Opening the top, Newkirk motioned for me to jump on it and climb down. I did so quickly, with Newkirk behind me.

Meeting my eyes down that ladder was a tunnel system so…_elaborate_…that it would put the Third Reich to shame. It certainly made me angrier than before because of it. I thought that these…Allied prisoners…were going to help me get out of Germany. And _this_ is the way they did it!

"Welcome to Stalag 13," Newkirk said as he came up from behind me. "The gov'nor will be here shortly." Guiding me to a chair in the next room (as I assumed that I was to be talked to privately, instead of in their radio room, as was described to me by the Underground), Newkirk indicated that I had to wait for Hogan, so I assumed again. I knew that he was the commanding officer of the prisoners at Stalag 13, so I figured that he commanded them in this tunnel system as well. So, logically, he was to be the one who would talk to me.

I took the seat and waited. Fortunately, it wasn't long before the tall, dark-haired man from yesteryear came forward. Older (he had white hair on his sides, I noted), more serious and without a smile on his face, the American took one good look at me before taking another chair from the tunnel outside of the room. His face was stoic, as if he had not remembered me trying to beat his beloved little love to death. His manner didn't even indicate that he wanted to extract his revenge. On the contrary, he was kinder than I had thought and seemed to want to help me, even if I had made my hatred of the Allied side known.

His introduction wasn't noteworthy, exactly. "I believe that we have met before," Hogan began awkwardly enough, making sure that I was aware of who he was. "Hogan is the name, if you don't remember."

The Colonel, reminding me of who he is, himself extended his hand in sincere friendship, as if he wanted to mend the past, but I wouldn't take it. With a sneer, I made myself known to him as an enemy, but one that he had to help. He had no choice. And I, in turn, had no choice but to accept it. _That_ was my opinion.

Hogan held his hand in the air for another second before beginning again, taking his hand back. He knew that I hated him, but didn't care. "The Underground has told us, Captain, about your escape from Stalag 17 with the prisoners. A courier, an escaped prisoner from that camp, mentioned as he came through here that you agreed with a deal with Major Armstrong and killed your kommandant in order for the prisoners to escape."

The Colonel paused, as if unsure to go on, but continued. "With the guards turning their attentions to a dead kommandant, it gives prisoners the chance to go through their tunnels and leave. They knew the changing of the guard, so they could easily dodge any guards that would have ignored the commotion."

"So?" I interrupted Hogan before he said another word about my great actions. "I'm not their hero. I hated that dog, Bröckenheimer. He made a fool out of me when I was not! I was his aide and did everything he asked of me. I checked the prisoners nightly. I ran a tight camp when he was not around. I am also a loyal citizen to the German State. My mother said –"

"What about Colonel Hozellenan?" Hogan asked of me, his anger evident to me as his voice was raised. I could tell that he was keeping it in for me, but he had to let it go sometime. "She may be one of the most loyal and one of greatest women of the Third Reich, but what is she to you? Someone to emulate? Captain, do you realize that you have saved a thousand prisoners from torture? Colonel Bröckenheimer was a brutal man who send prisoners to their deaths and sometimes lets them live, only to scar them for life because of his methods and the Gestapo. What is that to you?"

"Nothing," I yelled back. "You are prisoners! What difference does it make to me that you are killed? It is not me." Once I started, I could not stop. "The Third Reich of Germany is the greatest and its leader knows who is acceptable in this world. You –"

I got up and interrupted myself, as if I wanted to hit Hogan (I was not sure if I was going to or not), but before I could do anything, Newkirk and another man came into the room – a black man – and they came with guns. Their threatening attitude stopped me as the guns _were _pointed at _me_. Hogan was well-protected and they knew I was trouble from the moment the Underground told Hogan about me. I can't kill anyone.

"Now," the black man next to Newkirk said. "Are you ready to sit still and accept what you have or do we have to send you back to the German?"

"We already know that he wants to live," Hogan replied for me, calmly enough. "It's only a matter of cooperation. I don't think the Germans would take too kindly to us as he might be reporting about us in exchange for his life."

"I only came here to –" I began to correct Hogan, but I was interrupted. I was hoping to say that I wanted to go back to being a German soldier, with their help, but it was not possible except if I turned their operation in and even then, I might not go back to the position I used to be in.

_I have to trust them to do the right thing. I have to probably go to England or worse, spying someplace against my country and Hitler. I don't want to do it, but I have to live. Lilli would want it of me._

"We know you wanna live, Captain," Newkirk said as he lowered his gun and indicated that I sit down again. I did as I was told. "But there isn't anythin' we can do 'bout your family. It's war, sadly."

Hogan nodded. "Do you realize what your country has done, Captain?"

I shook my head. In turn, I had a little Frenchman come in, short as he was, and explained in harsh tones, tones too cruel for words. It was bitterness in his words. "Krauts alike took over what was not theirs. They conquered and stole precious things in this world that could not be replaced. They made people endure things that no person should have to face. While some is viewed as false, I believe them nonetheless. And you, of all people, should know what that is always taken away from you, Bosch."

"Human life," another American came in, philosophically answering the Frenchman's question. However, this man's eyes seemed childlike, even for one that was in his late twenties for sure, and looked as if they wanted to forget what they had seen. What his only way out of that was to lose all common sense that he had and to be childish. Otherwise, he held onto his intelligence and his integrity.


	5. Arrangements

I felt pity wash over me again. It was as if I wanted to release all forbidden emotions when faced with them, but denied them. These people saw it, along with Hogan, and were surprised. Even the black man had put down his gun.

"Do you see, Captain?" Hogan asked. "I don't ask about a man's politics and what he believes. If you believe that we should be ratted out just to save your life, then be my guest. But I am asking you…please let us help you. You obviously took some lengths to get to the Underground, twice even, so that you could live. You could start a new life and we could help you find your son. You could wait a little longer and you could see your sister again. But please…I'm begging you now, as a fellow officer, to let us help you."

When Hogan mentioned Nikola indirectly, I almost cried with shame (_No, I'm a man!_). His demeanor, however, almost faltered with her mention, but he picked this up and ignored it. It was as if he cast it aside and didn't want to look at it at the moment.

"Stepsister," I corrected him, continuing my arrogant attitude. "Nikola is my stepsister."

"Regardless," the black man said. "You're a fellow man. As much as we fight against your side, we would help any man get out tyranny and oppression." This man then put his gun down and extended his hand to me. "Will you accept it?"

The others watched me. They knew that I didn't accept Hogan's hand of friendship, so they would have known that I would not take the black man's hand. However, something in me changed. The black man looked to be another with feelings…with a life of his own…and I took that into my head. I didn't know what I was thinking, but I took the hand, disregarding the relieved looks around me, and trusted them once more.

_I have to get out of Germany and live once again. Lilli…oh, my little Lilli, forgive me. If only you had escaped with me, we could have had a better life together and started over once more. We could have gone on the run once more and left for another phase in our lives…_

The black man's hand was warm and welcoming and I let go when I felt that he was sincere enough. "I'm Sergeant Kinchloe, called Kinch here," he said. "You obviously know Colonel Hogan and Newkirk. LeBeau and Carter," he pointed to the Frenchman and the American, "are also at your service. Whatever you need before you leave us, just say something."

Hogan smiled at a job well done. It was as if he was testing this man and, in seeing his diplomatic gestures, trusted him with his life. He seemed as if he trusted his life to _all_ of them, this black man the most of all.

"All's the same, Captain," Hogan said. "Now, do you want to know of the plan to get you out of here?"

"Yes," I said with all eagerness, disregarding the chance to save my life and stay in Germany.

"Fine then," Hogan replied. "Now, when the notices around Germany start to disappear for your capture, we're gonna head you out. That means you're going to be here for a while, possibly a month. The General and Colonel Hozellenan obviously mean to have you tortured and dead if they mean to have notices fly all over Germany for your arrest. They both also don't care about your one bit if you were found dead. You on the other side would hurt them, though, and their mission to have you killed will consume them until finished."

I must have looked frightened (I never showed that I was frightened of Mother or of Frederick before), for Carter said, "It is o-ok, Captain. It's not bad down here. You'll g-get used to it."

"The Kraut can find his own way around, though," LeBeau commented quietly, just within my earshot.

It was also within Hogan's hearing, as well. It was a rude comment and the punishment was swift and easy. Hogan had no jurisdiction with me if _I_ said anything and it pleased me.

"_LeBeau_," Hogan asked with some annoyance, "you can show our guest around the tunnels and situate him before he leaves us. Kinch, get to London right away and tell them that Captain von Rumey here will be heading there soon."

"Right," Kinchloe replied as he left quickly. He did his assignments the moment the order was issued and I appreciated it.

Hogan continued, regardless. "Newkirk, sew up some clothes for the Captain here. The Underground got him this far, but we want him to look different before he heads out of here. Carter…"

The Colonel paused before saying anything, as if considering what this man could do. It was obvious that he was being soft on him as if something had happened to the man. "Carter, head into town once a week and check on the Gestapo. Make _sure_ that the patrols die down for Rumey. They might still be looking for him in another month, but it won't be as bad as right now. It's not too intense. Make sure it _stays_ that way. Bring Olsen with you, just in case."

"Sure, Colonel," Carter said, gulping, before heading out the door to the call below them of "Roll call!"

Newkirk, LeBeau and Hogan followed Carter out the door, but I had a question myself to the Colonel. "Hogan…Colonel, what am I to do?"

Hogan turned back to me, in a rush to beat time and get to roll call. "Just wait for the plan from the Underground," he said to me. "Trust me. You'll get out of here soon enough."

And in a blink of an eye, Hogan and his men were gone.


	6. A Frank Talk

Before the month of March was over, I was to be released to another Underground unit and heading to London with them, as there was to be a group – a group of civilians in disguise, might I say – going to the coast. I had never felt so excited before in my life. And yet, I was filled with remorse for Germany, for I am on the run once more from my home country and it might be years before I see her, intact and strong, again.

I felt regret for my country as never before and realized, before I was to leave, how we were losing the war…how Germany became strong, but used aggressive tactics against other countries…how I am to live in London.

_What was I to do? How am I to live? _The questions plagued me to no end. But the endless goings-on of these tunnels kept me busy enough not to think about it often. It also kept me from thinking about those that Germany does not like – the Jews, the gypsies, black men, anybody not Aryan – and it hurt me. I was betraying my country, and for _what_? I murdered my kommandant. I will pay for it later, when I am dead and gone. But why should I pay for it in this world?

The plan was relayed to me by Hogan towards the end of the month. On the night before my departure, he sat me down with his men (the four he usually works with, as I've noted) and talked of the plan to get me out of Germany and into London. Of course, there were to be some difficulties with it and I was going to have to fight tooth and nail to be free, but Hogan said the worst things anyone could ever say to me: to stay in a P.O.W. camp or to betray my country.

Sighing, Hogan began as we talked in their radio room. "Captain von Rumey, you are to be in a prisoner of war camp," he explained slowly, with his men posed to kill me if I did anything (they still did not trust me, I know). "However, in exchange for information, London will be willing to help you start a new life outside of a camp."

"What information must I give them?" I asked carefully. Indeed, I had been careful to think out the words I wanted to say, but always held my hatred to the enemies of the Third Reich in my heart. However, I liked Kinchloe, much as I would deny it to anyone else who accused me.

Hogan shrugged his shoulders, a gesture I normally never saw him do. He was usually decisive, knowing what to do and having an atmosphere of command. In this instance, he had no idea how to answer me.

"Anything that you want," Hogan finally answered. "Depending on its importance, I'd say, Headquarters in London would help you become secure within the city and not to interact with any Germany agents. This would land you in front of an assassin. The German agents there know who has been betraying their mother country."

"Oui, and we don't want that, do we?" LeBeau added, his obvious hatred of me still there. His words were even said through clenched teeth.

Everyone seemed to ignore the comment. "Oh, you'll love jolly 'ld London in the sprin'time." Newkirk smiled, happy as ever. He might even be envious because of where I was going and he was not.

"And it's bound to be a good life," Kinchloe added too, with some hopeful encouragement.

"The war might not hit you that h-hard." Carter, too, smiled.

Hogan nodded. "London knows all about you. They understand your loyalties. That is why the precaution."

"I understand," I said with cold lips. The words they said hit me hard, though, not matter how positive they were. I _could_ understand what was going on, but could not accept the reality of it. _Me, in a P.O.W. camp, when I was just in command of one a month before_? It was impossible for me to comprehend, but it had to be done. The enemies of Germany had to do this to me for reasons beyond saving a stalag's prisoners and murdering the brutal kommandant out of revenge.

"They're not expecting you to switch sides," Hogan replied, as if reading my mind. "They just want to keep a careful watch over you. It's for everything you've done."

I nodded my head.

"Now," Hogan continued with business, "here's how you're going to get to London."

I leaned in closer, to listen. His men, however, came closer to _me_, before Hogan waved them back and went on with the grand scheme. He knew that I wasn't going to hurt him. I knew better than that in any way.

"Captain, you're to go out tomorrow night. Klink had the guards doubled for this night, so we're going to have a prisoner or two escape to distract the men from guarding the camp. Olsen will be escaping with Newkirk out of the emergency tunnel and out into the woods about the same time you are. When the signal is given, then you're to go out. Are you familiar with this area?"

I rolled my eyes, indicating to Hogan that I did. He ignored it, as he did with every other rude comment or gesture that I made.

"Ok, then," Hogan went on. "The Underground will be meeting with the group heading to London after you catch up with them. The people you are meeting with are going to be by the old farmhouse, down by the main road that heads into town. It's the one that everyone thought was haunted." I saw a twinkle in his eyes and knew that he was up to that rumor. But I knew what he was talking about.

"Have any questions, mate?" Newkirk asked me.

"Nein," I answered without fail. It was an automatic reaction that angered LeBeau and, truth be told, I was happy that I made him that way. I didn't like the Frenchman as much as he liked me. The feeling was mutual.

Then, something strange happened next. Hogan dismissed his men, asking that he speak to me alone. And, with silent protests (not daring to utter anything to their commanding officer, I guessed), the men left. Then, Hogan turned back to me.

"We have not talked to each other in many years, Captain," he began quickly. "Whatever feelings we have over Nikki should end here. You're my sworn enemy and, at the same time, I wanted to say how strange it is to see you again, and in such circumstances. It has not been a good span of years, but I can say how you had the better end of the deal."

I laughed harshly. "How so?" I asked him. "I spent my life always running. When I finally settled down in a war, I am sent here. I lost my wife, my son, my home and my country. How do you call that lucky?"

Hogan sighed. "There were many things that have happened over these years that I am not too proud of. There were many disgraceful incidents that made people look shameful because I was so stupid. I was with the love of my life, yes, but we decided not to marry. I'm sure you're aware of that?"

I shook my head, looking at his left hand. Yes, it had no ring. "Captain, I love Nikki. I love her very much. And whatever pain she caused you, or whatever pain her father caused you, I have to say that it was not intentional. I wanted you to understand that. Nikki was just born in the circumstances that she was. It was not her fault that she was female and not a male. It's not her fault who her father is. All she knows is what her heart tells her. And if someone denies her access to someone or something, takes her away and abuses her, then she will follow another path. When she sees that she can't have her way, she'll find something that will turn in her direction."

I gaped at the Colonel. "It sounds like you've been practicing this speech," I accused him.

Hogan smiled a large grin. "Yes, I had," he replied. "But I'm not finished."

"Oh, of course," I said, indicating that he continued. I wanted him to finish the lecture so that I could get ready to leave the next night.

"Well," Hogan went on, "she followed her heart. She and I tried to start a family and it failed. We decided not to marry, still, and not to have a family after that attempt. So we lived together in somewhat peaceful harmony until the war started. We parted on bad terms in London and I was captured. Now, here I am. She's far away in Poland with her mentor and possibly might not come back alive."

Hogan choked back a sob, showing me the love he had for my stepsister, but immediately went back to his usual stoic gaze. "Captain, my point is…do not hold any more hostilities with the past. I told you this to help you gain an insight into someone that you never knew, but saw on a daily basis until you were told to kill her."

By the look on my face, Hogan knew that I was horrified. "Yes, I knew what the plan was. It wasn't that hard to figure out. But, what I want to say is, Rumey, let the past go. I've had to do the same and look forward, hopefully, to a life with her. However, plans might change, depending on if your government will let her live or let her go free."

I was going to start in on how Nikola had ruined our lives, but Hogan had me silent with a look. Otherwise, I didn't know what words to say. Her life story, which I had missed, astonished me more than anything else. And yet, I knew Hogan was holding a lot back from me. He didn't tell me everything.

"Didn't know that about her?" Hogan asked, a bitter laugh passing through his lips. "I've known her since I was eighteen years old. Much as I found her clingy and annoying in the last months that I saw her, Nikki showed me how powerful of a woman she is and how much she means to everyone who knows her well." Hogan paused. "Are there any other questions?" he then asked, closing the subject about my stepsister before he went on and on about her.

"No," I replied.

"Good," Hogan said, about to leave. But as he turned his back to me, I had something.

"Wait, Colonel Hogan," I pleaded. As Hogan turned back to me, I looked at him straight in the eyes and asked, "Do you think Germany will come back strong again?"

Hogan shook his head. "The way this war is going," he said, "it looks like Germany will fall and keep that way for years to come."


	7. Capture and Betrayal

The next night came quickly enough. As scheduled, the evening roll call at Stalag 13 revealed two prisoners missing. Hogan, with all of the chaos ensuing, had a man sent down to signal me before the guards noticed anything suspicious. To my surprise, it was Kinchloe, or Kinch, I should say.

Coming down from the tunnels' ladder, Kinch spotted me by his radio, which I was studying intently, trying to remember scenes from a home I've stayed in for a month. The radio was the most important, I've figured, so stayed in the room.

"Captain, it's time for you to go," the black man said, breaking me from the spell.

"Of course," I answered as I looked up to him at the ladder. "Where am I to escape from?"

"The emergency tunnel," Kinch answered before heading up again. "It's the same one you came up in. Just follow the tunnels straight and you'll find it." And with that, he was gone.

It was the last I saw to see of him. Nay, it was to be the last I saw of any of the prisoners again. It gave me a shiver of fear, but I threw it out of my mind. I was no believer in supernatural things or a human ability to determine what was in the future. I was to go to the meeting point, meet with the group and go to an Underground unit and that was that. It was going to be fine.

_And what is it isn't?_ My thoughts said in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. I just followed Kinch's directions and went up the ladder, pushing the door open. The tree stump, as always, opened for me before the spotlight could come back to it.

Quickly getting out when the forest was clear uphill, I ducked, closing the gateway behind me. Waiting for the light to pass again, I made my way upward to my next destination, ignoring the dreadful feeling in my stomach.

I reached the old farmhouse just in time. The group was able to leave, checking for patrols at the doorway carefully, when the leader spotted me coming out of the woods. I knew her to be the leader as she had her head out first, a dress covering up her ghastly deeds and making her look innocent. Her grey eyes even scanned me.

"Captain von Rumey, over here," she hissed in a German accent. With her, a group of three more men stood, their faces hopeful and their civilian clothes on. Their eyes lit up the dark doorway and I knew them to be with me.

I ran over quietly enough. The leader's grey eyes scolded me, but she said no words about it, only, "Captain, we have no time. The Gestapo is everywhere tonight. We need to split up and head to different safehouses. Do you all understand?"

Her question was directed to all four of us, but the other men knew it. They nodded their head, remembering the plans from before. Their trust was in her, as I was, and they needed only to get out of Germany any way that they can. Who these men were, I wouldn't know. I never knew them and never had the chance to.

"That's good," the leader said. "Now, here are some further instructions." She looked as if she was going to pull out some paper with new directions from the Underground, but did not. Quickly, she pulled out a gun, pointed it at me and whistled. The men behind her, who were to be going to England as I had previously thought, were loyal Germans, _Gestapo_ agents. Pulling out their guns, they made it a point in wanting to keep me still.

"Don't move," one said as he held up his gun and aimed for my head.

Before I could turn to run, as I've been doing for my whole life, more Gestapo and S.S. agents were around and behind me. _Oh God, I am trapped._

Major Hochstetter, that insufferable man coming out of nowhere, parted a group of his men and faced me. I looked to him as well, without blinking my eyes, and did it without fear, as I had been taught by Mother. I didn't have any of it, but one of betrayal. It wasn't from Hogan himself, but from the Allied escape system itself. They had betrayed my trust and it was going to cost me my life.

"Captain George von Rumey, I arrested you in the name of Hitler and of the Third Reich," Major Hochstetter announced. "Come with us."

"It'll be my pleasure, Major Hochstetter," I replied, bravely following his guards as they came up from behind me, grabbed me and dragged me to their truck.

Chaining me before throwing me in, I heard the guard talk about killing me before anyone else could. To me, I had no preference. I was caught and I knew that I was going to die soon enough. It was only a matter of time now.


End file.
